


Tumblr Mini-Fic #3: Phantasmagoria

by berlynn_wohl



Series: Tumblr Mini-Fics [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ghosts, M/M, Psychic Abilities, Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 06:01:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlynn_wohl/pseuds/berlynn_wohl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of a series of Johnlock mini-fics written for my Tumblr followers. John hopes to contact Sherlock in The Great Beyond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tumblr Mini-Fic #3: Phantasmagoria

**For my Super-Special By-Request 200th-Follower Fic, one of the prompts[acankerinahedge](http://acankerinahedge.tumblr.com/) provided me with was “phantasmagoria.” I know this is not precisely what you were expecting, darling, but I hope it is satisfactory: It’s about ghosts and the people who talk to them.**

John’s fidgeting grew more intense as the man on stage turned from his conversation partner.

“Thank you so much for sharing with me, Katie,” the man said.

“Thank _you_ , Edward,” the young woman sobbed back at him.

Turning back to the general audience, Edward Johnson, medium in both size and profession, went on: “Remember that having a reading done is not a cure. It can be healing and empowering. But it will not fix your grief. Now…” He strode over to the opposite side of the stage, his gaze sweeping over the audience. “There’s a J here.” He pointed. “John, Jack…?”

John’s hand shot up. “I’m John! I’m—” He immediately lowered his hand, embarrassed that he was behaving like a hyperactive schoolboy. But his behavior seemed not to perturb Edward one bit. He started right in with his next interview.

“John. Are you the eldest child in your family?”

“Er, actually, I’m the younger of two.”

“Ah, but you were made to _feel_ that you were the eldest, because your sibling was so irresponsible?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“And you’re here today because of your…father?”

“No.”

“But someone older than you.”

“He’s younger, actually.”

“But an old soul, would you say? I’m getting a sense of the wisdom that comes with age.”

The moment John chuckled to himself, Edward pounced. “Or maybe just a wise arse, am I right?”

Conceding this point with an exaggerated nod, John said, “Yes, yes.” He couldn’t help but be the _teensiest_ bit impressed, now, with Edward’s two dead-on insights.

“I’m going to come right out and say it. You are here to connect with your gay lover.”

John stopped laughing. “No, I am _not_ gay.”

“It’s alright, James, no one’s here to judge you.”

“ _John_.”

“John, right. So…there’s an F. I’m getting an F name.”

“S,” suggested John.

“That’s what I said, S, I’ll thank you not to mock my very slight and sporadic speech impediment.”

“Apologies.”

“S. Sam. Stephen?” Edward continued as John kept shaking his head. “Siegfried. Are you sure that it’s not Stephen? Someone’s coming through and they’re insisting on a Stephen, or a Steve. Is there anyone in your life named Stephen, perhaps _he’s_ lost a loved one?”

“I don’t think I know anyone named Stephen, no.”

Edward remained cool as a cucumber. “Hmm. Is it Sean? Seamus?”

John finally said, “Sherlock.”

“Sherlock, yes. I was getting the _Shh_ sound. Now, this was a slow passing, yes? A tumor, or something inoperable? Something hard to get at?”

“No, it was pretty quick, actually. He, uh, jumped off a building.”

“But he must have had something in his life that was _like_ a tumor. That was hard to get at.”

“Reckon you could say that.”

“John? Would you like to speak to Sherlock?”

The very idea of this put a lump in John’s throat. His words were barely a whisper, to keep himself from sobbing. “I do, yeah. Sometimes I feel like he’s still here. I feel like, he’s nearby, watching me.”

At this point, Edward turned to gaze about at the audience. “When we’ve just lost a loved one, there is a period of time where we still have the raw energy to remain connected to them. Did Sherlock pass recently?”

“Em, three years ago. Though in a geologic sense that could be termed ‘recently.’”

“Well, John, I’ve been in touch with Sherlock today.”

“You have?”

Suddenly, from stage left, came a booming baritone. “Oh for God’s _sake_ , John!”

Every head turned to see a tall, dark-haired man come stomping out from behind the stage curtains. “I can tell you that this man has _not_ been in touch with me today. In fact, I’ve had my mobile turned off all morning.” His tone turned mocking as he faced down Edward. “ _Oh, does someone here have a name that starts with the letter J? The most common first letter for a first name in the English-speaking world?_ You make me sick. Now come along, John, we’re leaving.”

John leaped out of his chair. “You’re _alive_?”

Strolling up the ramp, Sherlock said, “I am. And I’m so sorry that you had to believe I was dead. But it was for your own safety. For everyone’s safety. And what you felt was correct, John. I _was_ watching over you. I was near you.”

“Oh God, Sherlock.” John threw his arms around Sherlock’s neck, squeezing him so tightly that he felt the soft crack as Sherlock’s C3 vertebra popped.

Sherlock put his arm around John and guided him out of the audience, down the ramp, and out the rear exit. “Promise me,” he said, loud enough for Edward to hear, “that you’ll never again seek comfort from charlatans.”

“Only if you promise never to leave me again.” John leaned even further into Sherlock as they shambled out of the television studio with their arms around each other. He paused only to call back to the audience, and to Edward, “I’m really not gay!”


End file.
